


One November Morning

by Masterless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Pre-Canon, The morning Petunia finds Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:24:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: Petunia collected the empty milk bottles to put them out and made her way to the front door. She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and stopped in her tracks, staring at the front step.There, wrapped in a bundle, was a baby, with a lightning scar on its forehead.





	One November Morning

Petunia Dursley woke up on the morning of the second of November unaware that it was going to be any different from the morning before. She looked over at Vernon, still snoring loudly, and smiled. Her life was perfectly normal, she thought. Her perfectly normal husband and her perfectly normal son, her beautiful garden, and her spotless house. The only way her life could be any better was if she didn’t have her terrible, awful dark secret. Vernon hadn’t held it against her, and she knew that she would never let it into her life again. Her son would grow up blissfully unaware of magic, and that was all that mattered to her. She wanted to keep her perfect, normal life.

She decided it was probably time to make breakfast for her hungry man and to get her beautiful son ready for the day. She made her way down to the kitchen with relative ease, a lightness to her step. She felt good, she felt wonderful, like it was going to be a very, very good day. Her slippers made quiet tapping noises on the tile and she hummed to herself a jingle shed heard on the television the day before. She had some leftover sweets from Halloween two days ago, and she decided to be extra nice and put some in Vernon’s lunch. Just to prove that she wasn’t upset with him for bringing up her sister the night before.

After his lunch was made, it was time to set the milk out, and then to make breakfast. Petunia collected the empty milk bottles to put them out and made her way to the front door. She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and stopped in her tracks, staring at the front step.

There, wrapped in a bundle, was a baby, with a lightning scar on its forehead.

Petunia dropped the milk bottles, which shattered on the mat, and screamed. She slid down the wall and sat down hard in the front hall, staring at this baby as if it would go away if she willed it to. She noticed the letter clutched tightly in its chubby little hand, their address written in a tight, looping hand. She heard Vernon stomping down the stairs towards her.

“Petunia!” he called, out of breath and worried sounding. Faintly, she recognised that Dudley had started to scream. “Petunia, what is it?”

He pulled up short behind her, staring first at his wife and then at the baby.

“What… what is that?” he asked.

For some reason, this galvanised her, and Petunia realised that her scream probably woke up others in the neighbourhood, too. She snatched up the baby, holding it at arm's length, and quickly closing the door with her foot. She walked into the living room and put it on the sofa, watching as it opened its large, emerald green eyes, so much like her sisters, and looked around. It first looked at Vernon, who stared back, unsure of what to do, and then it looked at Petunia.

“Mumma?” it asked. “Dadda?” When it got no response, the baby started squirming in its blankets, getting both of his arms loose and waving them up. “Pafoo? Moo? Wommy?” When again there was no response, its voice became shrill. “Mumma! Dadda!”

Petunia felt in her stomach that she knew who the baby was, but she couldn’t believe it. It had her sisters eyes, the thick, black hair and deep brown skin of that man, her sister’s husband. It had to be their son, Harry, but why? Why would they leave him here, with her?

“Mumma!” he shrieked, fat tears rolling from his eyes. “Dadda!”

Vernon looked at Petunia. “What is going on?”

Petunia, avoiding Harry’s flailing limbs, took hold on the letter he had been holding and tore it open. It fell from her fingers, which had begun to shake, before she could read it. When she picked it up again, she only got a few lines in before realising that she had at last gotten her wish, but not in the way she had wanted.

Her sister was dead, and now she really did have a perfectly normal family.

Except, of course, from the crying baby on her sofa, his dark skin and hair so at odds with her family. She would never be able to explain that away, never be able to escape the neighbour’s gossip with a brown baby in the house. 

“Well?” Vernon asked. “What’s going on?”

Petunia straightened her back. “This is my sisters son. She and her husband were murdered, on Halloween night.” Something inside her felt like it was falling apart, crumbling away, a sandcastle in the wind. “This is Harry Potter.”

Vernon bristled, looking down at the baby. “Well, then.” He puffed up his chest. “I can take it to the church on my way to work, we can leave it with them. Or give it to the orphanage a town over.”

“No.” Petunia had never raised her voice to her husband, never shouted in their house. “No, he stays with us.”

“Tuney,” Vernon said, putting a hand on her back. “I know it must come as a shock, there was a time when you and your sister were quite close, but… we have Dudley to think about. We can’t raise him with this… this freak in the house.”

“Mumma!” Harry yelled, his little voice growing hoarse. “Dadda!”

“No, the… the letter says we need to keep him here.” Petunia looked at her husband, stealing herself. “He will live with us, but I will not put him over our son. Dudley is the most important thing in my life right now, and I will not let him go through the neglect that I went through.”

Vernon, grudgingly, agreed and cleared out the shoe cupboard as Petunia went to get Dudley and get him ready for the day. She put him down on the sofa next to Harry and turned on the television, knowing that it would distract him while she figured out what to do with Harry. He had stopped screaming, but occasionally he would look around and babble to himself.

“Moo? Pafoo? Wommy?” he would ask. “Mumma? Dadda?”

Petunia mostly ignored him.

After awhile, Dudley took notice of his cousin, and started poking him in the arm and the face. Harry started to cry again, his voice reaching a splitting level.

“Shut up!” Petunia yelled, coming round the sofa and standing in front of Harry. “Shut up! You stupid little baby, shut up!”

Harry looked up at her, and he must have recognised something in her, something that reminded him of Lily, even thought they acted and looked nothing alike, or else he wouldn’t have done what he did. He held up his arms to her and smiled a slight smile. “Mumma? You? Mumma?”

“No!” she shrieked. “I am not your mother! I hated her! I hated your mother with all of my heart!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I hated her… I hated her so much…” She felt herself crumple and she sat down on the floor, resting her head on the sofa cushion in front of Harry. “I hated her…”

She felt a tiny hand in her hair, and when she looked up, Harry was very close, sitting up and staring at her. “Mumma luvs you,” he said, his words broken and mumbled. “Dadda luvs you. Harry good boy.”

Somehow, Petunia knew it must have been the last thing that Lily said to him. They were Lily’s last words to her son. “Lily…”

“Mumma!” Harry said, his smile widening.

Vernon came into the living room. “I’ve set up the old cot in the cupboard.”

She nodded, looking up at her husband. “Good.” She stood, brushing the nonexistent lint off her dress. “Put him to bed, I don’t want to think about him for a while.”

Vernon obeyed, lifting Harry gingerly.

“We are never going to let him be like his parents,” Petunia said. “I will not allow magic in my house.”


End file.
